Monthly Archives: September 2026

Death and the Rohirrim

30 Wednesday Sep 2026

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Welcome, dear readers, as always.

“I myself will go to war, to fall in the front of the battle, if it must be.  Thus shall I sleep better…”

says Theoden to Gandalf.  (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 6, “The King of the Golden Hall”)

As Theoden has just said “to fall in the front of the battle”, it’s clear that he means here not falling asleep, but dying, and that’s exactly what he does, leading the Rohirrim against Sauron’s armies at the battle of the Pelennor Fields,

(Denis Gordeev)

and dying after tangling with the chief of the Nazgul.

(Angus McBride)

But where will he “sleep”?

Snowmane, his horse, whose reaction to the Nazgul’s ghastly mount,

(Ted Nasmith)

led to Theoden’s death, is buried under a mound on the battlefield—

“…but for Snowmane they dug a grave and set up a stone upon which was carved in the tongues of Gondor and the Mark:

‘Faithful servant, yet master’s bane,

Lightfoot’s foal, swift Snowmane.’

Green and long grew the grass on Snowmane’s Howe…” (The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter 6, “The Battle of the Pelennor Fields”)

A “howe” is a burial mound,

and the word appears to come originally from Norse haugr, “mound; cairn” says Etymonline (https://www.etymonline.com/word/howe If you are a Narnia fan, you probably think immediately of Aslan’s Howe— )

(Pauline Baynes)

When Sauron is finally defeated, we know what then happens to Theoden’s body—

“Then the kings of Gondor and Rohan went to the Hallows and they came to the tombs of Rath Dinen, and they bore away King Theoden upon a golden bier, and passed through the City in silence.  Then they laid the bier upon a great wain

(perhaps something like this—but without the bagpiper—and the rooster)

with Riders of Rohan all about it and his banner borne before; and Merry being Theoden’s esquire rode upon the wain and kept the arms of the King…

At length after fifteen days of journey the wain of King Theoden passed through the green fields of Rohan and came to Edoras; and there they all rested…after three days the Men of the Mark prepared the funeral of Theoden; and he was laid in a house of stone with his arms and many other fair things that he had possessed, and over him was raised a great mound, covered with green turves of grass and of white evermind.  And now there were eight mounds on the east-side of the Barrowfield.”  (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 6, “Many Partings”.)

We’ve seen these mounds before—

“At the foot of the walled hill the way ran under the shadow of many mounds, high and green…

‘Look!’ said Gandalf…we are come to the great barrows where the sires of Theoden sleep.’

‘Seven mounds upon the left, and nine upon the right,’ said Aragorn.”  (The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter 6, “The King of the Golden Hall”)

Since first reading this, I could always see those mounds—

and it made me wonder where JRRT got the idea.  My first thought was the ship burial at Sutton Hoo, which came to public attention in 1939—

and which Tolkien would have read about in the news of the day.  (And which you can read about here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutton_Hoo# )

The person buried in the ship certainly had “many…fair things”, now restored and kept in the British Museum—

Tolkien might also have been aware of Viking ship burials in Scandinavia, like that of the Oseberg ship, excavated in Norway in 1904-5—

which you can read about here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sutton_Hoo#  And you can read about Viking ship burials in general here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norse_funeral

He could also have been aware of the Six Hills in Stevenage, England, thought to be Roman burial mounds—

(ricjl   For more images, see:  h)ttps://www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=1475  For more on the site, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Hills  )

or he might have been inspired by places like the early Neolithic West Kennet Long Barrow—

(see for more:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Kennet_Long_Barrow )

or even the many barrows in Ireland (for more, see:  https://www.danielkirkpatrick.co.uk/irish-history/irish-barrows-map/ )

but his ultimate sources were probably the burials of Patroclus (in Iliad, Book 23, lines 245-248—my translation—Achilles is speaking to the Greeks)–

τύμβον δ’ οὐ μάλα πολλὸν ἐγὼ πονέεσθαι ἄνωγα,

ἀλλ’ ἐπιεικέα τοῖον· ἔπειτα δὲ καὶ τὸν Ἀχαιοὶ

εὐρύν θ’ ὑψηλόν τε τιθήμεναι, οἵ κεν ἐμεῖο

δεύτεροι ἐν νήεσσι πολυκλήϊσι λίπησθε.

“But I order you not to labor over a very big barrow,

But such as is suitable [for the moment].  But then

Make it broad and high, [you] Greeks,

Those of my survivors who may be left in the many-oared ships.”

and of Hector (Iliad, Book 24, 795-799—again, my translation)

καὶ τά γε χρυσείην ἐς λάρνακα θῆκαν ἑλόντες

πορφυρέοις πέπλοισι καλύψαντες μαλακοῖσιν.

αἶψα δ’ ἄρ’ ἐς κοίλην κάπετον θέσαν, αὐτὰρ ὕπερθε

πυκνοῖσιν λάεσσι κατεστόρεσαν μεγάλοισι·

ῥίμφα δὲ σῆμ’ ἔχεαν…

“and taking them [Hector’s bones], they put them in a golden chest,

Covering [them] with soft purple robes.

At once they placed [the chest] in a hollowed-out grave, then from above

They covered it with big, thick-set stones.

And quickly then they heaped up the mound…”

and, of course, Beowulf–

“The men of the Weders made accordingly

A hill on the height, high and extensive,

Of sea-going sailors to be seen from a distance,

And the brave one’s beacon built where the fire was,

In ten-days’ space, with a wall surrounded it,

As wisest of world-folk could most worthily plan it.

They placed in the barrow rings and jewels,

All such ornaments as erst in the treasure

War-mooded men had won in possession :

The earnings of earlmen to earth they entrusted,

The gold to the dust, where yet it remaineth

As useless to mortals as in foregoing eras.”

(Beowulf, John Lesslie Hall, translator, 1892—see:   https://archive.org/details/beowulfanglosaxo00hall/page/106/mode/2up )

And even more Beowulf in this—

“Then the Riders of the King’s House upon white horses rode round about the barrow and sang together a song of Theoden Thengel’s son…” (The Return of the King, Book Six, Chapter 6, “Many Partings”.) 

which clearly comes from this—

“Round the dead-mound rode then the doughty-in-battle,

Bairns of all twelve of the chiefs of the people,

More would they mourn, lament for their ruler,

Speak in measure, mention him with pleasure,

Weighed his worth, and his warlike achievements

Mightily commended, as ’tis meet one praise his

Liegelord in words and love him in spirit,

When forth from his body he fares to destruction.

So lamented mourning the men of the Geats,

Fond-loving vassals, the fall of their lord,

Said he was gentlest of kings under heaven,

Mildest of men and most philanthropic,

Friendliest to folk-troops and fondest of honor.”

(again from the Hall translation)

And there, we can imagine, Theoden sleeps still.

Thanks, as ever, for reading.

Stay well,

And remember that, as ever, there’s

MTCIDC

O

Minor?

23 Wednesday Sep 2026

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As ever, dear readers, welcome.

It’s true, as I said in my posting about War and Peace, that the novel certainly appears to have a lot of characters, many of them minor, people who appear for a scene or two, as T.S. Eliot (1888-1965) writes, speaking in the voice of “Prufrock”:

“No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse…”

(from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”, first published in Poetry, June, 1915)

I would say that this is also true for The Lord of the Rings, with its many characters, some of whom “start a scene or two”—think of Sandyman the miller, for example, and his son, Ted, two sceptical Hobbits, who pop up in the first chapters of the book, foils for Gaffer Gamgee and his son, Sam, with their gossip about the Bagginses and traveling Ents—definitely “scene-starters”, though not much more.

Then there are minor characters who, for a moment, have more major roles and here I’m thinking of Hama, the doorward of Meduseld.

(This is from the wonderfully creative Lego “Rebrickable” site:  https://rebrickable.com/mocs/MOC-174256/Sir%20BuildsALot/meduseld-the-golden-hall-of-edoras/#details which is all about building new things with Legos.)

In a letter to the editor of The Observer, Tolkien had stated of The Hobbit:

“Beowulf is among my most valued sources…”  (letter to the editor, 20 February, 1938, Letters, 41)

and, in the case of Hama, this continues to be true.

At the beginning of Beowulf, Hrothgar, the king of the Danes, is in trouble.  His mead hall (which the English for “Meduseld”)

has been attacked, for 12 years, by a monster from the moors—Grendel.

Security is tight, therefore, in Denmark, so, when Beowulf arrives from Sweden with his companions, he is first stopped and questioned by a coast guard,

and then, at Hrothgar’s door by Wolfgar, the doorward–

“As the party was approaching the palace together

They set their arms and armor against the wall.

In warlike equipments. ’Gainst the wall of the building

Their wide-fashioned war-shields they weary did set then,

Battle-shields sturdy; benchward they turned then;

Their battle-sarks rattled, the gear of the heroes;

The lances stood up then, all in a cluster,

The arms of the seamen, ashen-shafts mounted

With edges of iron: the armor-clad troopers.”

Wolfgar then questions them–

“A Danish hero asks them whence and why they are come.

Were decked with weapons. Then a proud-mooded hero

Asked of the champions questions of lineage:

“From what borders bear ye your battle-shields plated,

Gilded and gleaming, your gray-colored burnies,

Helmets with visors and heap of war-lances?—

To Hrothgar the king I am servant and liegeman.

’Mong folk from far-lands found I have never

He expresses no little admiration for the strangers.

Men so many of mien more courageous.

I ween that from valor, nowise as outlaws,

But from greatness of soul ye sought for King Hrothgar.”

(from John Lesslie Hall’s 1892 translation, which you can read here:  https://www.gutenberg.org/files/16328/16328-h/16328-h.htm#page_5 This translation suggests the heavy alliteration and rhythm of the original, but it’s occasionally archaic, so, if you’d prefer, there are many others out there.   There have, in fact, been English translations since 1837 and you can see a list of most of them here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_translations_of_Beowulf )

Here, we see Wolfgar (his name is mentioned in line 30) greet and question Beowulf and his companions after they have put down their weapons.  In the same scene in The Lord of the Rings, Hama is less friendly—

“ ‘I am the Doorward of Theoden,’ he said.  ‘Hama is my name.  Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter.’ “

Legolas easily lays aside his weapons, but Aragorn resists, saying,  “It is not my will…to put aside my sword or to deliver Anduril to the hand of any other man.“

To which Hama replies:  “It is the will of Theoden.”

And here Aragorn begins to sound rather high-handed:

“It is not clear to me that the will of Theoden son of Thengel, even though he be lord of the Mark, should prevail over the will of Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendil’s heir of Gondor.”

This almost causes a political disaster as Hama replies:

“This is the house of Theoden, not of Aragorn, even were he King of Gondor in the seat of Denethor.”

And then—

“[Hama] step[s] swiftly before the doors and bar[s] the way.  His sword was now in his hand and the point towards the strangers.”

Gandalf temporarily calms the situation, but then Hama says to Gandalf:

“ ‘Your staff…Forgive me, but that too must be left at the doors.’ “

Gandalf pleads old age and Hama, hesitating for a moment, then allows him to keep it and, by doing so, steps from minor character for a moment to major as, when Gandalf and the others enter the hall, they find

(the Hildebrandts)

“…a man so bent with age he seemed almost a dwarf…”

(Alan Lee)

as well as “…a woman clad in white..”

and

“At his feet upon the steps sat a wizened figure of a man, with a pale white face and heavy-lidded eyes.”

This is Grima Wormtongue, who, we soon find out, is not the loyal counselor of Theoden he pretends to be, but an agent of Saruman,

(the Hildebrandts)

bent upon betraying the king.  Angered by him, Gandalf

“…raised his staff.  There was a roll of thunder.  The sunlight was blotted out from the eastern windows; the whole hall became suddenly dark as night.  The fire faded to sullen embers.  Only Gandalf could be seen, standing white and tall before the blackened hearth.

In the gloom, they heard the hiss of Wormtongue’s voice.  ‘Did I not counsel you, lord, to forbid his staff?  That fool, Hama, has betrayed us!’  There was a flash as if lightning had cloven the roof.  Then all was silent.  Wormtongue sprawled on his face.” 

With Grima thrown down, great age falls away from Theoden—

“He drew himself up, slowly, as a man that is stiff from long bending over some dull toil.  Now tall and straight he stood, and his eyes were blue as he looked into the opening sky.”  (all of the above from The Lord of the Rings, Book Three, “The Two Towers”, Chapter 6, “The King of the Golden Hall”)

In fact, Hama hasn’t betrayed Theoden, but has given Gandalf the weapon to free the king from Grima’s betrayal and what seems to have been some sort of aging spell.

Theoden then goes on to fight at Helm’s Deep,

(Angus McBride)

to lead the charge at the Fields of the Pelennor,

(Denis Gordeev)

and to die heroically at the battle’s end.

(Angus McBride)

Hama is no Prince Hamlet, but, in allowing Gandalf to keep his staff, he has done more than “start a scene”—he has restarted his king, and, in doing so, he has brought Theoden back into the story, leading the Rohirrim to actions which will help to thwart both Saruman and Sauron—not bad for a minor character.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Stay well,

And, as always, know that there’s

MTCIDC

O

An Homeric PS

16 Wednesday Sep 2026

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As always, dear readers, welcome.

I earlier posted a review of Christopher Nolan’s Odyssey (see “Out of Work Athena”, 12 August, 2026),

but I’ve thought a lot about the film since and I felt that it might be helpful to add a second note on the subject–about the film’s ending, in particular.

Here’s what the Wiki article has to say:

“After the meal, Odysseus, still disguised, confesses to Penelope his guilt for violating Zeus’ law during the sacking of Troy, desecrating Athena‘s statue after killing her priestess (whose form Athena assumed in visions), and initiating the collapse of the Bronze Age… After the remaining suitors surrender, Odysseus cedes his throne to Telemachus and leaves with Penelope to seek peace in exile. Sailing west to honor his fallen soldiers, the couple expect civilization’s renewal and muse that time will forget Odysseus’ mistakes.”

I was surprised when I read this and even more surprised when I saw it acted out on the screen.  This may be “Christopher Nolan’s Odyssey”, but it’s not “Homer’s”.  And that subtitle on the poster, “Defy the Gods” shows the major difference, as I began to demonstrate in my earlier posting.  Athena is Odysseus’ patron and therefore the last god he would “defy”, but it’s because of another god that Odysseus will perform the action which is first laid out for him in the Otherworld by the seer Tireisias.

Odysseus’ trouble began in Book Nine, where Odysseus tells his Phaeacian audience (an important part of the story left out of the film) that, previously trapped by Polyphemus, the Cyclops, in the Cyclops’ cave, he has escaped after blinding him.

Groping his way to the shore in pursuit of the fleeing Odysseus, Polyphemus attempts to destroy him and his men by heaving the equivalent of a mountain top at them.

In the process of escaping, Odysseus does something which may seem rash, if not downright crazy, to us (and Odysseus’ crew would agree).  He shouts to the Cyclops:

“Κύκλωψ, αἴ κέν τίς σε καταθνητῶν ἀνθρώπων

ὀφθαλμοῦ εἴρηται ἀεικελίην ἀλαωτύν,

φάσθαι Ὀδυσσῆα πτολιπόρθιον ἐξαλαῶσαι,

υἱὸν Λαέρτεω, Ἰθάκῃ ἔνι οἰκίʼ ἔχοντα.”

(Od. 9.502–9.505—my translation)

“Cyclops, if any one of mortal men

Should ask [you] about the shameful blinding of [your] eye,

Say that city-destroying Odysseus blinded [it],

The son of Laertes, having his home on Ithaka.”

Doing so, Odysseus seems to have just handed over his name and address to his victim, even though the story makes it clear that Polyphemus’, by killing and eating a number of Odysseus’ men, deserved what he got.  (Polyphemus also violated the Greek custom of xenia, hospitality/guest-friendship, which, as Odysseus earlier had pointed out to him, was overseen by Zeus—unlike the completely imaginary “Zeus’ law”, which is mentioned more than once in the film.  Odysseus, by the way, when speaking to Polyphemus, is obeying another actual early Greek custom, if not “law”:  that of kleos.  This is a hard word to translate, meaning something like “reputation/fame”, and Odysseus, to add the escape of the Cyclops to it, must let his enemy know who tricked him, even though, in this case, it brings him and his men into mortal danger.)

Polyphemus, thwarted in destroying Odysseus there and then, prays to his father, Poseidon,

for revenge, something which is mentioned by Zeus at the beginning of Book One of the Odyssey (lines 68-75) when Athena approaches him for help in getting Odysseus out of the clutches of Calypso on the island of Ogygia and sent on his way home.  (Odysseus, by the way, hasn’t, as in the film, forgotten about home, stoked up on lotos, but, instead, grieves for it every day—see Book One, lines 55-59.) 

We then see Poseidon’s revenge told by Odysseus in Book Five, as Odysseus, aided by Calypso (through Zeus’ prompting via his messenger, Hermes), is attempting to get home via a homemade raft.  Poseidon spots the raft, with Odysseus on it, and works up a violent storm which partially destroys the raft and drops Odysseus into the sea before he can regain the wreckage, now at the mercy of the waves. (see Book Five, lines 282-332)

Odysseus survives, saved by the mysterious Phaeacians (whom I’ve mentioned earlier) and sent home by them, although Poseidon, annoyed by their helping Odysseus, turns the ship which carried Odysseus to stone as a punishment (see Book Thirteen, lines 125-165)

Odysseus is left with a very serious problem, however:  he lives on an island, among sea-faring people:  how will he ever be safe from Poseidon?  The answer lies in the directions which Tireisias gave him in their Otherworld meeting.  Once Odysseus has killed the suitors (all the suitors—unlike the film, Odysseus shows no mercy in the poem), Tireisias says:

“ἔρχεσθαι δὴ ἔπειτα λαβὼν ἐυῆρες ἐρετμόν,

εἰς ὅ κε τοὺς ἀφίκηαι οἳ οὐκ ἴσασι θάλασσαν

ἀνέρες, οὐδέ θʼ ἅλεσσι μεμιγμένον εἶδαρ ἔδουσιν·

οὐδʼ ἄρα τοί γʼ ἴσασι νέας φοινικοπαρῄους

οὐδʼ ἐυήρεʼ ἐρετμά, τά τε πτερὰ νηυσὶ πέλονται.

σῆμα δέ τοι ἐρέω μάλʼ ἀριφραδές, οὐδέ σε λήσει·

ὁππότε κεν δή τοι συμβλήμενος ἄλλος ὁδίτης

φήῃ ἀθηρηλοιγὸν ἔχειν ἀνὰ φαιδίμῳ ὤμῳ,

καὶ τότε δὴ γαίῃ πήξας ἐυῆρες ἐρετμόν,

ῥέξας ἱερὰ καλὰ Ποσειδάωνι ἄνακτι…”

(Od. 11.115–11.130—my translation)

“Go, then, having taken a broad[bladed] oar,

Until you reach those men who don’t know the sea,

[and] neither do they eat food mixed with salt

Nor yet do they know ships with painted bows [literally “purple cheeks”],

Nor broad[bladed] oars, [which] are the wings of ships.

And I will tell you a very clear sign [which] you won’t miss:

Whenever some traveler, meeting you,

Should say that you have a winnowing fan on your splendid shoulder,

Then, having stuck the broad[bladed] oar in the earth,

Having made fine sacrifices to the lord Poseidon…”

go home and continue making sacrifices to the gods.  And, having done so, Odysseus will have an easy death in old age and his people will be blessed.  Although Odysseus later relates this to Penelope (see Book Twenty-three, lines 248-284), we don’t see him do it in the poem, but he certainly doesn’t “sail west to honor his fallen soldiers” (why west?  And how does that “honor his fallen soldiers”?)

It’s clear, from Tireisias’ directions, that what Odysseus is meant to do to placate Poseidon includes getting as far away from the sea as he can—but what’s this business with the oar and a “winnowing fan”?

In earlier times, the process of producing flour was complex.  One had to:

1. harvest the grain,

2. break the beards of grain off the stalks, called “threshing”,

3. then, often by tossing it up, using the air to free the grain from the husks which cover it, called “winnowing”,

before grinding the final product into powder—flour.

Winnowing could be done by tossing the grain in its husks into the air from a basket,

or by forking it into the air by a “winnowing fan”.

Probably because the fork had a long shaft, like an oar, Tireisias was suggesting that, meeting someone so far inland as to be ignorant of boats that he would confuse an oar with an agricultural tool, Odysseus would be safe from Poseidon’s natural element and could make his sacrifice to placate the god.

So—no abdication, no sailing west, nor restoration of civilization, but a godly man, so long protected by a goddess, now seeking peace by appeasing a god he has angered:  a very different and reverent story—and ending of the story–from Christopher Nolan’s, with its totally manufactured “defiance”.

Thanks for reading, as always,

Stay well,

Always check before assaulting someone—he might be related to a vengeful god,

And remember, as well, that there’s always

MTCIDC

O

December in September

09 Wednesday Sep 2026

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As ever, welcome, dear readers.

Recently, I watched an historical film which has been on my shelves for some time.

In English, this would be “Union of Salvation” which title, because the image includes what is clearly a soldier in a shako (a kind of military hat worn mostly in the first half of the 19th century),

may make you wonder—along with the title of this posting—what’s this one going to be about?

There are clues, however, both in the film’s title and in the posting’s title:  we’re beginning this posting with a film about the Decembrists, a group of Russian would-be revolutionaries, who, under the name “the Union of Salvation”, led a military uprising against the government in St Petersburg in December, 1825.

The soldiers involved included units of the tsar’s own bodyguard, who paraded in what was then called Senate Square to proclaim their support of a new tsar, Constantine,

 and a constitution.  Instead, it was revealed that Constantine had previously declined the position of tsar, so the new tsar would be his younger brother, Nicholas.

Nicholas, in fact, first attempted to deal with the rebels, but, when his emissary, the distinguished general Miloradovich, was mortally wounded by one of the rebels,

things went rapidly downhill and the new tsar turned his artillery on the troops, shooting down a number before the rest fled in confusion.

After this, Nicholas pursued the rebels, many were rounded up, and punishments ranged from demotion in rank to exile to Siberia,

to execution—the most prominent being that of the five men deemed the ringleaders.

The film was a striking one–beautifully made, with what appeared to be Star Wars quality CGI,

but, because I already knew the outcome, there was a grim, fateful feel to the film, even though I very much admired and appreciated the work which had clearly gone into it.  The conspirators were both ambitious and idealistic and even a little naïve, and, at the moment of crisis, things came apart and they and their attempted revolt failed miserably.  It’s a powerful film, and well worth watching, even if you are aware of its conclusion.  The version of the film I saw had subtitles which looked like they’d been done by an AI with almost no knowledge of idiomatic Russian, producing some very odd translations, but there is a far superior version on YouTube, which you can see here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_JiQWe36xM  Before you do, however, I would suggest that, to understand the complexities of the revolt (and it was complex—lots of personalities and plans), watch this very good documentary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXx_jLEG4KU 

Those who were sent into exile in Siberia made new lives for themselves there, but there were some who always hoped for pardon and, in 1856, with the accession of a new tsar, Alexander II (son of Nicholas),

they were allowed to return westward, and old noble privileges were even restored to their children.  (For more on this, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Decembrist_revolt )

This event, we’re told, inspired a writer already known for Childhood, Boyhood, Youth (1852-56),

(which you can read here:  https://archive.org/details/childhood-boyhood-youth-e-lev-tolstoy/page/n5/mode/2up )

Sebastopol Sketches (1855),

(which you can read here:  https://tolstoyarchive.org/Fiction/books/Sevastopol%20Sketches.pdf )

and The Cossacks (1863),

(which you can read here: https://archive.org/details/landedproprietor00tols/page/n7/mode/2up

Count Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910),

 to begin a new work, which would be based upon the revolt and its consequences.  He commenced his novel in 1863, but realized that, to make sense out of the events of 1825, he would have to go back in time, and the first version of this work was entitled 1805, and published in 1865, but then came years of revision and occasional publication of drafts until the final version, now entitled War and Peace, appeared in 1869.  (The creation and publishing history is as complex as the Decembrist plot—you can follow it here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_and_Peace )  And, although there is a hint of the Decembrists in an epilogue, the actual events of 1825 have completely disappeared from the novel which Tolstoy eventually published.

It’s a novel I’m now beginning to read for what I think is the 9th time, and, each time, I’m surprised at how easily I’ve been pulled in.

It’s long—the estimate of one translation is 628,215 words—and it has many secondary characters, but the primary characters—Pierre, Andrei, Natasha—are so vividly drawn that, reading, it’s those you follow, even as you do Andrei’s family—his seemingly severe father, his gentle, pious sister—and Natasha’s family—her overly-generous father, her loving mother, her siblings and their attachments.  And you watch Pierre gradually grow from the troubled, illegitimate son of a nobleman into a deeply thoughtful and kindly man.   As well, although Tolstoy had originally intended a very different historical novel, we see these characters set against the history of Russia in the period of the Napoleonic wars, beginning with its defeat, along with its Austrian ally, at Austerlitz in 1805 (you can read more about that here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Austerlitz#General_references )


through Napoleon’s invasion and eventual defeat in 1812, with the burning of Moscow

and the terrible French retreat, through deepening winter and Russian pursuit.

There are battles,

but the majority of scenes are from civilian life:  dances, a hunt, jealousies, weddings, family struggles, even a duel. 

If this interests you, but the idea of such a massive work seems, potentially, a little overwhelming, I would start with the second BBC series from 2016.

This wisely concentrates upon those three primary characters (they are depicted in this image) and, having seen that, you can form a good idea of the shape of the book as a whole, then turn to what many believe to be the best modern translation—

or, having read this intelligent opinion–https://tolstoytherapy.com/tips-for-reading-war-and-peace-first-time-tolstoy/ –perhaps this translation—

and see what you think.  If you’re like me, you’ll become hooked and find yourself reembarking on this long but wonderful book again and again.

Thanks for reading, as always.

Stay well,

Be glad that Napoleon was eventually defeated and exiled to a tiny island from which he didn’t return,

And remember that, also as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O

Fan/Finn Fiction

02 Wednesday Sep 2026

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Welcome, as ever, dear readers.

If you read this blog regularly, you know that I have a mostly positive view of fan fiction.  On the one hand, it can be a good teacher:  how many modern fantasy writers have used, say, Tolkien, or even his characters, as a model when they were first beginning to write?  And, on the other, there are those moments in Tolkien which are nothing but brief mentions—like the cats of Queen Beruthiel–(mentioned by Aragorn in The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2, Chapter 4, “A Journey in the Dark”—“He is surer of finding the way home in a blind night than the cats of Queen Beruthiel.”  Tolkien once wrote of them:  “I have yet to discover anything about the cats of Queen Beruthiel.”—letter to W.H. Auden, 7 June, 1955, Letters, 316—although he had a little more to say in Unfinished Tales, 419, including the mysterious end of the Queen.)

(Steamey—see more of his art here:  https://lotr.fandom.com/wiki/Category:Art_by_Steamey )

where one might wish that someone—a clever fan, respectful of the original material–would write more about her.  It wouldn’t be Tolkien, but it might be fun.  (I say a clever and respectful fan as there are moments in some of the films based upon Tolkien where there is such a clear violation of Tolkien’s work—I mention only “Tauriel” in the Hobbit as an obvious example—that I, for one, could wish that the “fan” there had left the story as JRRT had written it.)

It recently occurred to me that, in fact, Tolkien, himself once wrote such fiction, early in his career.

This began when Tolkien was at the end of his time at King Edward’s School,

when

“And at about this time he discovered the Finnish Kalevala…the collection of poems which is the principal repository of Finland’s mythology.  Not long afterwards he wrote appreciatively of ‘this strange people and these new gods, this race of unhypocritical low-brow scandalous heroes,’ adding ‘the more I read of it, the more I felt at home and enjoyed myself.’   He had discovered the Kalevala in W.H. Kirby’s Everyman translation, and he determined to find an edition in the original Finnish as soon as possible.”  (Carpenter, J.R.R. Tolkien, 57.  Here are the two volumes of the Kirby for you:    https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.102315/page/n7/mode/2up and https://dn760104.eu.archive.org/0/items/kalevalalandofhe02kirbiala/kalevalalandofhe02kirbiala.pdf  )

The Kalevala, in fact, is just what Carpenter says, a “collection of poems” which contain a series of songs about various heroes of Finnish folklore, assembled into a volume by Elias Loennrot (1802-1884),

a Swedish doctor with a strong interest in philology and folklore, after a number of collecting trips in the area of what is now Finland and beyond from 1828 to 1845.

He published the first edition of his work in 1835,

and a second in 1849.  These songs were chanted in a rhythm which H.W. Longfellow (1807-1882)

 later employed in his epic poem The Song of Hiawatha, 1855, (which should be pronounced, according to Longfellow’s own phonetic spelling, as Hee-a-WA-tha),

which opens with

“Should you ask me, whence these stories?

Whence these legends and traditions,

With the odours of the forest,

With the dew and damp of meadows,

With the curling smoke of wigwams,

With the rushing of great rivers,

With their frequent repetitions,

And their wild reverberations,

As of thunder in the mountains?”

(You can have your own copy of the first English edition from 1855 here:  https://archive.org/details/songhiawathathe00longrich/page/n3/mode/2up   There is a very comic and deft parody of this by Lewis Carroll, “Hiawatha’s Photographing”, from his Phantasmagoria, 1869,   which you can read here:  https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Phantasmagoria_and_Other_Poems   For the influence of the Kalevala on the prosody of “The Song of Hiawatha”, see:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Song_of_Hiawatha ) 

Commonly, two would perform the songs, clasping hands and rocking back and forth, as in this photograph.

Those songs, many about magical events and objects and bloody revenge, clearly fascinated the young Tolkien and that fascination almost destroyed his academic career at Oxford as he admits:

“But the beginning of the legendarium, of which the Trilogy is part (the conclusion), was in an attempt to reorganize some of the Kalevala, especially the tale of Kullervo the hapless,

(Aleksi Gallen-Kallela, 1899)

Into a form of my own.  That began, as I say, in the Honour Mods [the initial exams at Oxford] period; nearly disastrously as I came very near having my exhibition [scholarship] taken off me if not being sent down [expelled].”  (to W.H. Auden, 7 June, 1955, Letters, 313)

This led to:

“He was also trying his hand at writing.  His enthusiasm for William Morris had given him the idea of adapting one of the stories from the Finnish Kalevala into a Morris-style prose-and-verse romance.  He chose the story of Kullervo, a hapless young man who unknowingly commits incest and, when he discovers it, throws himself onto his sword.  Tolkien began work on ‘The Story of Kullervo’ as he called it, and although it was little more than a pastiche of Morris it was his first essay in the writing of a legend in verse and prose.  He left it unfinished.”  (Carpenter, 80-81).

As to the adventures of the “hapless Kullervo”, you can read about him in detail here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kullervo and read his story in translation on pages 100-125 in volume 2 of the Kirby translation cited above.

As well, you can read Tolkien’s William Morris/Finnish fan fiction in an edition published in 2015

with an article on the edition here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Story_of_Kullervo .  And read more about Morris—and Tolkien—in “Remembering the North”, 15 March, 2023, here:  https://doubtfulsea.com//?s=william+morris&search=Go )

And so I have another reason for a mostly positive view of fan fiction:  Tolkien.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

Stay well,

Ask yourself what would be the basis of your fan fiction,

(myself, I would like to continue the story of the Turbin family from Mikhail Bulgakov’s The White Guard, 1924—for a detailed summary of the book see:  https://sovlit.net/whiteguard/ )

And remember that, as always, there’s

MTCIDC

O